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« 


THE  FEMAIiE  Z.ABOUREB  UT  THE  VINSTARS. 


if^!^i;&iv,lL   !E)!!S(gS)WS^£l6 


OCCASIONED    BY    THE    DEATH    OF 


MISS    ELIZABETH     ROBERTSON. 


PREACHED  IN  THE  SECOND  PRESBYTERIAN  CBURCR, 


CHARLESTON,  AUGUST  26,  1827, 


BY 

T.  CHARZ.TOK  HEKTRIT,  D.  I>. 


CHARLESTON : 

OBSERVER  OFFICE  PRESS. 

1827. 


The  following  brief  discourse  was  not  designed  for 
the  Press.  The  author^  who  has  not  time  to  enlarge  or  cor- 
rect it,  has  permitted  a  Relative  of  the  deceased,  at  his  ear- 
nest and  repeated  request,  to  print — not  to  publish — a  feiv 
copies  of  it. 


8ERMON. 


REV.  XIV  :  13. 

It   was  a  direct  communication  from   on 
High  by    which  the  languag;e  in  our  text  was 

given "  /  heaid  a  voice  from  Heaven^  saying 

itnto  ?ne,  blessed  are  the  dead  which  die  in  the 
Lord,  from  henceforth :  yea,  saith  the  Spirit,  that 
they  may  rest  from  their  labours ;  and  their  works 
do  follow  ihe^n.^^  It  was  the  harvest  cry.  The 
note  of  preparation  for  the  thrusting  in  of  the 
sickle.  It  was  for  the  reaping  of  the  earth  :  for 
the  gathering  into  Heaven's  garner,  in  the  end 

of   the  days. *'  fFrite  /" — that  it  may   be  a 

matter  of  record — that  Saints  to  come,  may  read 
and  know,  and  understand.  ♦'  Write*^ — that 
*  they  who  die  in  the  service  of  the  Lord  are 
blessed.'  Record  it — that  *  they  shall  rest  from 
their  labours  of  love,  and  from  their  toil  and  their 


4 


care.'     And  write  the  confirmation  of  the  great 
Sanctifier  of  licarts — "  yea,  saitli  the  Spirit.^^ 

Brethren,  there  is  much  that  is  discriminating 
in  my  text.  It  speaks  of  peace,  and  rest,  and 
glory,  when  it  announces  the  blessedness  of  the 
accepted  of  God.  It  tells  the  shout  of  welcome 
that  hails  the  adopted  soul.  But  it  refers  to  that 
soul,  as  one  who  died  in  the  service  of  the  Most 
High ;  and  whose  works  were  those  of  a  co- 
worker with  God.  It  is  not  the  transition  from 
worldliness  to  spirituality.  It  is  not  the  ascent 
of  one  reeking  from  the  pleasures  and  hopes  of 
the  earth. 

Oh  if  there  be  much  that  is  cheering  in  the 
lofty  promises  of  Him  who  ''  tasted  death,"  that 
man  condemned  might  live,  there  is  much,  too, 
that  renders  them  a  pausing  ground,  where  each 
should  stand,  and  ask,  "  Lord  is  it  I  ?"  And 
where  each  has  an  issue  between  his  conscience 
and  his  soul. 

The  suitableness  of  the  language  before  us  to 
the  subject  of  a  Funeral  occasion,  will  distinctly 
appear  in  its  application. 

Who  has  not  felt  in  the  departure  of  the  Chris- 
tian, that  when  the  Funeral  obsequies  are  over, 
and  the  dust  has  been  committed  to  its  mingling, 
and  a  brief  period  has  passed  between  us  and 
the  act,  there  is  a  breathing  time,  in  which  the 


impulses  of  passion  subside  ?  We  look  around, 
and  there  is  a  sensation  of  loneliness.  \Vc  enter 
into  scenes  of  activity  again ;  and  the  duties 
wliich  the  departed  used  to  perform,  are  to  be 
accomplished  by  some  one  else ;  and  the  burden 
becomes  heavy  in  its  admonitions  of  our  loss. 
We  remember  the  offices  he  sustained,  and  he 
dies  afresh  in  our  sight,  every  time  we  look  for 
a  supply.  There  were  certain  cares  he  under- 
took— and  when  we  ask,  *  who  shall  sustain 
them  ?'  the  breaches  arc  muhiplied.  A  new  di- 
vision of  duties  ensues. — And  as  they  arc  taken 
up,  the  memory  of  the  departed  becomes  more 
faint ;  and  all  that  remains  of  him  that  we  loved, 
is  the  soft  light  of  his  recollected  example,  that 
keeps  its  influence  when  the  exemplar  is  gone. 

Such  is  the  general  tale  of  even  the  pious  dead. 
The  places  that  knew  them,  know  them  no 
more :  and  they  sink  back,  and  blend  with  the 
confused  shadows  of  the  past. 

It  is  at  such  breathing  time,  as  that  I  have 
mentioned,  that  we  have  now  arrived  after  the 
decease  of  a  Christian  Sister.  We  are  to  fdl  up 
the  breaches  which  her  departure  has  occasion- 
ed— a  task  we  shall  imperfectly  accomplish.  But 
we  have  to  do  more  than  this.  The  providence 
which  called  her  away  is  not  merely  one  which 
leads  us  to  contemplate  the  j)ast :  it  bids  us  look 


to  the  future.  It  proposes  the  Prophet's  question 
with  personal  application — "  Watchman,  what 
of  the  night  ?"  It  asks  where,  and  who,  and  what, 
are  we  ?  It  is  not  a  fruitless  ebullition  of  sor- 
row that  we  are  called  to  offer.  All  afflictions 
that  end  here  are  covered  with  the  frown  of 
Heaven.  It  is  an  admonition  penned  by  inspi- 
ration itself, — "  in  the  day  of  adversity,  consi- 
der." 

Aware  that  the  points  of  our  consideration  are 
both  numerous  and  full,  when  one  who  held  an 
eminent  and  active  station  in  our  society  has 
left  us,  I  will  select  a  single  subject  of  serious 
ponderins;.      And  it  shall  be  one  of  which  the 

particulars  in  our  text  remind  us. Oh,  I  know 

too  well  that  the  lugubrious  images  of  death  sel- 
dom produce  a  permanent  benefit.  I  know  that 
the  scenes  of  a  death  houi',  and  the  mournful 
rites  of  a  Juneral,  rarely  reach  deep  into  the 
heart  of  the  impenitent  sinner  ;  or,  1   might  say, 

as  far  as  my  own  observation  has  extended 

never.  Such  an  effect  is  within  the  circle  of 
possibilities,  I  am  ready  to  admit.  But  that 
circle  is  small.  Any  effect  here,  which  bears  a 
remote  resemblance  to  spiritual  good,  is  that  of 
the  Law,  and  not  of  the  Gospel.  It  is  the  weak- 
est tendency  of  the  Law.  It  is  an  exhibition  of 
its  penalty.     It  alarms,  and  it  grieves.    But  it 


does  not  even  convince  of  sin.  It  reaches  no 
|)rinciple  in  the  heart  of  such  a  survivor — for 
there  is  none  to  be  reached.  It  opens  the  foun- 
tains  of  tears,  and  they  wash  away  the  lesson 
that  was  faintly  written  ;  and  the  sinner  returns 
to  his  idols  again.  Our  world  abounds  with 
monuments  of  this  truth  :  and  more  than  one  be- 
fore me,  may  say — "  it  is  /."  And  then  for  the 
Christian — it  is  something  beyond  the  assurance 
of  his  mortality  he  is  to  learn  If  he  be  remind- 
ed of  the  blessedness  of  the  "  dead  who  die  in  the 
Lord,"  he  is  taught,  likewise,  to  scrutinize  his 
own  title  to  a  hope  so  elevated  ;  to  examine  the 
moving  springs  of  his  life,  and  to  improve  from 
human  examples,  in  all  that  resembled  his  as- 
cended Redeemer. 

The  blessedness  of  the  Christian  is  obviously 
connected  with  his  services :  Such  is  the  inti- 
mation of  our  text.  Not  that  these  services  pos- 
sess merit  in  themselves  :  but  that  so  far  as  they 
exist, — so  (ar  as  they  arise  from  purity  of  motive, 
they  indicate  a  holiness  of  disposition,  and  a  de- 
sire for  the  glory  of  God.  One  of  the  first  questions 
which  the  Redeemer  asked  after  his  resurrection 
was,  "  lovest  thou  me  V  and  he  told  the  evidence 
of  that  love,  when  he  enjoined  an  active  and 
practical  benevolence— a  spirit  of  operative  obe- 
dience. 


8 

The  subject,  then,  before  us,  may  be  comprised 

in  a  few  words The   Female  J  labourer  in 

THE  Vineyard  of  God  :  a  title  which,  without 
invidious  reflections,  might  have  been  justly  ap- 
plied to  Elizabeth  Robertson. 

I  am  not  ignorant  that  at  the  present  day, 
when  schemes  of  benevolence  are  extending  far 
and  wide,  and  the  young  and  the  old  are  acting 
in  concert ;  when  the  tenderer  sex  not  only  as- 
sociate to  promote  the  knowledge  of  the  truth, 
but   have   sealed  ii  with  their  own  life's   blood 

among    the    Heathen ; in  such  a  period  of 

the  world  as  this,  I  am  not  ignorant  that  the 
voice  of  opposition  has  been  frequently  heard 
against  all  measures  of  female  benevolence.  It 
is  not  seldom  said,  in  the  utterings  of  such  op- 
position, that  there  is  a  departure  from  a  proper 
sphere  ;  that  there  is  an  unfeminine  agency — that 
that  there  is  an  assumption  of  a  province  which 
belongs  to  others — and  a  bold  intermeddling,  un- 
becoming the  sex.  But  in  all  this,  there  is  either 
a  latent  enmity  to  the  Gospel  itself,  or  there  is 
an  ignorance  of  the  truth  that  is  lamentable  in- 
deed.  The  Word  of  God  is  strenuous  in  insist- 
ing on  the  discharge  of  social  and  domestic  du- 
ties :  and  yet  do  we  know  that  females  ranked 
among  the  disciples  of  Christ :  that  they  were, 
in  their  own    departments,  assistant   labourers 


vitli  the  Apostles :  that  the  Apostles  speak  ol 
them  as  such  :  that  they  contributed  of  their  time 
and  their  means,  to  promote  the  furtherance  of 
the  Gospel.  We  know,  too,  that  when  all  this 
ceased  to  be,  superstition  had  marred  the  purity 
of  the  truth.  These  are  memorable  facts,  which 
Scripture,  and  the  history  of  the  Church,  have  set 
out  in  full  relief. 

We  go  further  than  this  :  We  say  that  wherever 
the  light  of  the  Gospel  has  most  fully  shone,  there 
the  female  is  the  most  fit  companion  of  her  hus- 
band, the  best  instructor  of  his  children,  and  the 
useful  member  of  society.  Where  that  light  does 
not  shine,  there  is  she  proportionably  degraded, 
from  the  rank  of  companion,  to  the  station  of 
vassalage.  A  debtor  for  all  the  high  privileges 
she  possesses,  to  the  influence  of  Christianity ;  or 
the  most  unhappy  of  sufferers,  in  its  absence. 

1  know  that  the  answer  to  all  this  is  not  so 
much  in  sober  reasoning  as  in  sarcasm. — - 
But  ridicule  is  not  argument ;  and  yet  it  is  here 
the  weapon  in  ordinary  use.  And  I  have  thought 
that  the  sneer  against  one  engaged  actively  in  the 
cause  of  Jehovah — directing  her  energies  to  the 
very  point  to  which  the  Holy  Spirit  is  looking — 
while  no  domestic  duty  was  omitted — might 
well  induce  an  Angel  to  cover  his  face  with  his 

3 


10 

mantle  to  hide  his  sorrow,  for  the  freaks  of  the 
thoughtless. 

It  is  where  there  is  imprudence, — it  is  where 
there  is  a  perversion — it  is  where  there  is  a 
forgetfulness  of  delicacy  of  character — it  is 
where  there  is  officiousness  and  presumption — 
that  censure  should  light.  But  never  where 
deportment  and  conduct  are  consistent  with  the 
dignity  of  a  Christian  Female. 

The  rest  is  plain :  that  every  one  of  us  is  call- 
ed into  a  scene  of  activity  :  that  we  shall  be  sum- 
moned to  give  an  account  of  the  talents  entrust- 
ed to  our  care,  whatever  they  may  be ;  and  that 
a  positive  and  imperative  precept  it  is,  "  whoso- 
ever knovveth  to  do  good  and  doeth  it  not,  to  him 
it  is  5ZW." 

If  these  positions,  then,  be  just,  we  shall  not 
be  ill  occupied  in  considering  the  sphere  of  duty 
in  which  our  departed  friend  was  accustomed  to 
move. 

I.  She  ivas  active  in  those  benevolent  institutions 
in  ivhich  it  was  in  her  power  to  be  useful.  The 
inquiry  with  the  sincere  Christian  is  not  respect- 
ing his  convenience  in  connexion  with  his  plea- 
sures ;  not  how  far  this  or  that  employment  may 
suit  his  taste ;  but  simply  how  far  good  may  be 
achieved.  There  are  many  who  are  willing  to 
lend  their  aid  to  works  of  benevolence,  provided 


11 

pleasure  or  amusement  may  be  connected  with 
them.     Tlierc  are  many  who,  for  tlie  sake  of  so- 
cial intercourse,  are  willing  to  unite  in  the  same. 
But  it  is  a  lamentable  truth,  that  there  are  very 
many,   whose  first  question  in  every  opportunity 
of  promoting  the  advancenicnt  of  Christianity, 
is,  how  far  it  will  interfere  with  temporal  and 
unnecessary  pursuits  ?  how  far  it  will  lay  a  res- 
traint on  other  gratifications  ?  and  who,  there- 
fore, the  moment  they  ascertain  that  some  degree 
of  self-denial  is  demanded,  consider .  themselves 
absolved  from  all  obligations.     "  There  is  a  lion 
in  the  way,"  saith  the  child  of  indolence.     "  It 
interferes    whh    other  pursuits,"  says  the  luke- 
warm professor  of  religion      "  It  demands  a  sa- 
crifice too  costly,"  says  the  selfish.     "  It  encroach- 
es too  much  on  both  time  and  thought,"  says  the 
inconsiderate.     "  It  is  requiring  more  than  1  see 
many  others  do,"  says  the  half-convinced   and 
reluctant. 

Oil,  how  easily  we  forget  the  first  principles  of 
true  religion  !  The  precepts  of  self  denial  arc  a 
fable  in  the  sijiht  of  many.  The  value  of  an 
immortal  soul  is  forgotten— or  sinks  into  a  petty 
trifle,  not  worth  the  sacrifice  of  a  little  hour. 
Thus  are  there  many  in  every  community,  who 
swell  their  own  self  gratification  into  a  matter  of 
more  worth  than  the  glory  of  God,  or  the  good  of 


12 

an  undying  spirit.  Many,  wlio  while  they  profess 
to  love  Him  who  gave  himself  for  them,  bid  him 
carry  on  his  own  cause,  while  an  example  of  the 
most  practical  selfishness  forms  a  barrier  to  its 
progress.  Would  that  all  such  might  remem- 
ber— a  true  love  of  duty  gives  an  inclination  to 
discharge  it.  And  where  that  love  exists,  duty 
is  the  first  point  consulted  ;  where  it  does 
not  exist,  sinful  inclinations  decide.  The  con- 
science is  satisfied  ;  because  it  is  searing  under  a 
wilful  neglect.  The  worlding  lives  for  himself 
under  the  cloak  of  a  profession — buries  the  ta- 
lents committed  to  his  care  ;  and  fearlessly  pas- 
ses on  to  the  reckoning  that  awaits  him.  That 
precept  which  we  have  already  quoted,  if  he  dared 
ponder  it  well,  would  tingle  in  his  ears.  "He 
that  knoweth  to  do  good,  and  doclh  it  not,  to 
him  it  is  sin."  Alas,  what  arrears  of  iniquity, 
then,  are  there  against  many  of  us !  It  is  sin 
that  destroys  our  peace.  It  is  sin  that  prevents 
our  enjoyment.  What  wonder,  then,  that  thou- 
sands who  complain  of  the  want  of  pleasure  in 
devotion,  utter  such  complaint,  while  they  keep 
up  the  transgressions  of  neglect :  Shew  me  ar- 
dent piety,  and  I  will  shew  you  activity  in  the 
cause  of  the  Saviour.  Shew  me  enjoyment  in 
religion  ;  and  I  will  shew  you  a  temper  that  looks 


IS 

around  to  ask,  '•  Lord  what  will  thou  have  me  to 
do  ?''  and  that,  on  the  first  discovery  of  duty,  f2;ocs 
forward  to  discharge  it. 

I  have  rarely  seen  an  example  in  which  this 
truth  u  as  better  exemplified  than  in  our  lamen- 
ted friend  :  She  entered  rashly  into  nothing. 
She  pondered  well  the  proposals  (or  institutions 
of  active  benevolence.  She  examined  their  bear- 
ing and  consequences.  She  endeavoured  to  as- 
certain all  that  prospectively  related  to  them. — 
4nd  having  done  this,  she  never  shrunk  fi'om 
lending  her  own  efforts  of  time,  property,  and 
influence.  From  that  Sabbath  School,  in  which 
she  held  so  prominent  a  station, — through  other 
societies,  in  which  she  was  a  judicious  and  ac- 
tive officer, — her  name  will  long  be  remembered 
with  Christian  affection,  and  unqualified  respect. 
Her  monument  is  in  the  hearts  of  all  who  asso- 
ciated with  her  there.  And  it  needs  no  flatterino- 
inscription  to  remind  us  of  who  and  what  she 
was. 

II.  The  active  benevolence  of  the  departed 
was  STABLE.  Stability  is  the  soul  of  princi- 
ple. It  is  the  test  of  sincerity.  It  is  the  evi- 
dence of  e^cnuine  devotedness.  There  arc  those 
who  are  vyilling  enough  to  enter  into  new  schemes 
with  eagerness  and  alacrity  :  Yet  who,  when 
the  novelty  is  vvorne  off,  suffer  their  zeal  to  wear 


14 


away  with  it.  And  infectious  and  chilling  as 
langour  is,  they  impart  the  coldness  of  their  re- 
missness and  neglect  to  others  around  them.  It 
is  emphatically  said,  that  "  one  sinner  destroyeth 
much  good."  AVith  equal  emphasis,  it  may  be 
affirmed,  that  one  undecided  and  vacillating  pro- 
fessor of  religion  carries  a  pestiferous  influence 
into  the  circle  in  which  he  moves.  Oh,  how 
easily  we  forget  that  a  work  undone  may,  with- 
out our  consciousness,  be  a  work  of  evil,  with  all 
its  contemplated  and  intended  good  I  We  are 
indeed  to  count  the  cost  of  our  attem.pts,  as  we 
are  that  of  our  profession  :  But  we  are  to  re- 
member that  abandoning  a  building  which  we 
have  begun,  entails  dishonour  on  ourselves,  and 
injury  to  others. 

It  is  indeed  a  promise  of  ineffable  mercy  by 
which  a  crown  is  tendered  to  the  Christian.— 
But  that  promise  is  enriched  when  we  remember 
that  the  Redeemer  is  pledged  to  aid  us  in 
our  endeavouring  to  win  it.  And  yet  that  crown 
is  to  be  conferred  only  on  a  most  important 
condition — a  condition  which  is  never  to  be  se- 
parated from  it — it  is  this  :  "  be  thou  faithful 
unto  death."  Not  a  fidelity  which  is  waver- 
ing :  not  a  zeal  that  is  fitful  in  its  works :  not  a 
benevolence  that  is  freakful :  but  regular  in  their 
agency,  the  offspring  of  principle :  in  their  per- 


15 

mancncy  rosembling  that  affection  of  Jesus  of 
\vhich  it  was  said,  "  having  loved  his  own,  he 
loved  them  unto  the  end."  Ah !  his  love  has 
never  changed !  It  has  followed  us  on  in  the 
midst  of  all  our  inp;ratitude  and  folly :  it  has  pur- 
sued us  when  frivolity  condemned  us.  Had  it  been 
otherwise — had  he  dealt  with  us  as  we  by  him, 
our  spiritual  place  would  have  been  of  palpable 
darkness.  Or,  had  he  found  the  w  ork  of  re- 
demption too  painfully  hard,  and  left  it  undone, 
we  had  lived  only  for  Death, — we  had  died  only 
for  Tophet.  Christian  labourer,  the  service  you 
profess  to  espouse  is  his,  and  net  your  own  :  his, 
who  knew  not  in  the  work  of  your  redemption, 
or  in  his  gracious  promises,  either  "  change  or 
shadow  of  turning." 

In  the  character  of  the  departed  there  was 
something  distinguishing  here.  There  was 
no  vacillation  ;  there  was  none  of  the  weakness 
of  indecision.  I  venture  to  say,  that  it  was  rare, 
if  ever,  her  presence  was  missed  from  an  insti- 
tution in  which  it  was  demanded,  unless  an  im- 
perious and  paramount  duty  presented  a  higher 
claim.  These  were  matters  she  deemed  too  im- 
portant for  trifling:  And  her  integrity  was  too 
spotless  to  be  stained  with  petty  and  quibbling 
excuses  for  neslect. 


16 


Her  soul  loved  the  work  of  her  God,  and 
she  pursued  it  with  intentness.  Even  in  the  ap- 
proach of  a  trying  liour,  her  eye  had  not  lost 
sight  of  it,  when  she  had  left  directions  relative 
to  the  part  she  had  sustained. 

III.  Our  friend  was  consistent.  How 
much  this  term  implies!  how  little  it  is  under- 
stood !  Without  consistency,  it  is  more  than  pos- 
sible to  build  up  with  one  hand,  while  we  pull 
down  with  the  other.  The  world  expects  a  cor- 
responding demeanour  in  a  life  of  active  bene- 
volence. And  the  world  has  a  right  to  do  so. 
What  then  is  the  quality  of  which  we  speak  ?  It 
is  one  which  blunts  the  edge  of  opposition,  and 
gives  an  elevation  to  the  character  it  embellishes  : 

1.  Consistency  demands  that  the  cause  of  bene- 
volence in  ivhich  ive  engage,  is  that  of  God,  and 
not  of  ourselves  :  not  that  of  party  :  not  that  of 
vanity  or  ambition.  It  was  a  bitter  sarcasm  of  a 
late  caviller  that  "  the  active  pitty  of  females 
is  the  piety  of  a  party — the  excitement  of  feel- 
ing— a  license  to  obtrude — the  idleness  of  gos- 
sipping,  that  occasions  more  disputes  than  the 
benevolence  excuses."  But  this  is  a  blow  not 
at  benevolence  itself ;  but  at  selfishness  cloaked 
by  hypocrisy.  It  is  too  late  now  to  attach  to 
Christianity  the  evils  of  its  professors.  Wherever 
there  is  an  exclusive  spirit,  and  a  meddling  tern- 


17 

per,  and  a  fault  telling  tongue,  the  very  gar- 
ment of  benevolence  renders  them  more  dis- 
gusting. But  where  a  meek  and  gentle  dis- 
position— an  unassuming  deportment,  and  a 
retiring  temper,  blend  in  the  female  labourer, 
there  is  an  influence  in  their  attraction  which 
commands  alike  our  respect  and  our  love.  We 
see  a  heavenly  devotedness  unmixed  with  a  jea- 
lous and  earthly  spirit. 

II.  Consistency  forbids  that  we  sacrifice  one 
duty  to  accotnplisli  another.  The  female  who 
neglects  her  own  sphere — who  is  remiss  in  the 
domestic  offices  which  fall  to  her  lot — who  is 
careless  of  the  cultivation  of  her  own  mind — is 
chargeable  with  either  fanaticism  or  ambition ; 
and  we  do,  and  we  ought,  to  look  out  for  the 
consequences  of  both.  And  in  this  high  and 
holy  matter,  there  neither  is,  nor  oue;ht  to  be, 
an  excuse  for  either.  If  there  be  neither  hus- 
band nor  father  to  complain,  community  will  — 
And  the  community  will  detect  such  an  evil,  in 
the  very  pride  which  covers  it.  And,  believe 
me,  the  same  keenness  of  suspicion  which  arraigns 
the  conduct  of  disinterested  men,  will  make  a 
more  palpable  discovery  here.  There  is  the  same 
process  in  the  moral  world,  which  exists  in  the 
natural :  things  will  take  their  level  in  time,  if 
they  do  not  at  once.     The  water  will  rise  no 


>-  18 

higher  than  its  fountain ;  or  the  artifice  which 
raised  it,  will  be  discovered.  The  world — and 
here  it  agrees  with  the  Bible — will  not  consent 
to  our  acting  out  of  our  sphere.  And  it  will  as- 
certain and  condemn,  when  we  do  so.  1  apply 
this  remark  to  both  my  positions  ;  that  of  obtru- 
sion ;  and  that  of  departing  from  the  circle  of 
our  proper  duty. 

III.  The  consistent  labourer  in  the  vineyard  of 
God  will  be  familiar  with  his  closet.  He  that  is 
otherwise  may  be,  but  is  not  likely  to  be,  an  in- 
strument of  good  to  others.  We  may  be  active  ; 
but  personal  devotion  is  the  true  source  of  expe- 
rimental devotedness.  Familiarity  with  the  clo- 
set will  give  us  an  appetite  for  duties  without. 
They  mutually  aid  and  promote  each  other. — 
The  one  prepares  us  for  the  world  ;  and  the  other 
for  retirement  and  meditation.  If  we  take  our 
views  from  the  Word  of  God,  we  can  have  no 
high  idea  of  piety  without  activity :  but  shame 
and  confusion  will  follow  that  activity  which  has 
not  the  unction  of  prayer — fervent,  heartfelt 
prayer. 

I  appeal  to  those  who  knew  her,  how  well 
these  brief  but  comprehensive  maxims  were  ex- 
emplified in  our  departed  sister,  as  far  as  it  was 
possible  to  judge.  In  her  whole  agency  there 
was  nothing  of  party.     Mildly,  but  affectionate- 


19 


ly,  she  reproved  where  she  saw  it.  And  die  folly 
of  gossiphig  reached  her  own  bosom  when  it 
was  intended  for  others. 

Her  own  family  was  never  neglected.  In  the 
latter  months  of  her  life,  the  infirmities  of  one 
who  was  dear  to  her  engrossed  her  attention. 
And  she  felt,  as  she  should  have  felt,  that  her  first 
duties  were  at  home.  The  stay  and  the  staff  of 
an  aged  relative,  she  never  relinquished  her  post 
while  her  presence  was  needed.  Yet  even  here, 
not  a  few  can  testify,  that  when  she  could  not  be  on 
the  open  field  of  action,  she  acted  the  part  of  a 
Dorcas.  It  were  an  unchristian  statement  to 
say  that  her  liberality  was  unbounded — for  the 
liberality  of  the  Christian  has  its  bounds  in  ex- 
pediency and  judgment.  But  I  have  had  oppor- 
tunities of  knowing  that  it  was  judicious,  full, 

and  unostentatious. 

— < 

Her  heart  panted  for  the  evidence  of  a  saving 
change  in  many  whom  she  loved.  And  her 
sympathies  gave  rise  to  emotions  which  an  inti- 
mate would  know  and  understand.  God  grant 
that  the  private  utterings  to  which  such  emotions 
gave  rise,  may  be  visible  in  the  fruits  for  which 
she  longed  on  earth  !  Ah  there  is  no  true  reli- 
gion that  does  not  yearn  for  the  redemption  of 
those  who  are  specially  dear  to  our  hearts.  I 
hazard  but  litde  when  I  say,  that  relating  to  her 


20 


own  soul,  as  well  as  the  souls  of  others,  prayer 
was  the  key  of  the  morning,  and  the  bolt  of  the 
night. 

Such  was  our  lamented  friend  in  life.  And 
the  sketch  of  duties  1  have  drawn  from  the  living 
example.  There  is  wrong  in  overweening  eulo- 
gy, as  well  as  in  defamation  of  the  dead.  I 
should  tremble  in  being  the  instrument  of  eithef. 
To  the  best  ol  my  knowledge,  I  have  thus  far 
pencilled  with  truth :  and  I  have  laid  every  re- 
striction on  feelings  of  my  personal  partiality. 

To  some,  it  may  be  discouraging  to  gaze  on 
an  example  which  their  circumstances  may  never 
permit  them  to  imitate  closely.  We  have  many 
whose  means  are  far  short  of  those  of  our  de- 
parted Sister  in  Christ.  And  many  whose  time 
is  far  more  engrossed  by  domestic  duties.  But 
Christian  consistency  forbids  all  that  is  inordi- 
nate, and  all  that  is  out  of  its  place.  He  that 
has  one  talent  in  the  Scriptural  sense  of  the  term, 
is  not  required  to  gather  interest  for  ten.  The 
frown  and  the  curse  will  be,  where  we  improve 
not  what  we  have :  Where  we  make  our  pas- 
time, or  our  ease,  or  our  sensual  comfort,  the 
excuse  for  neglect — whatever  name  we  may  give 
it.  There  is  a  blessing  for  him  who  can  give  no 
more  than  a  cup  of  cold  water,  in  the  name  of 
Jesus,  and  in  the  spirit  of  love  to  him.     And  there 


21 

wfis  one  who  had  feeble  means  of  honouring  ihe 
Redeemer,  to  whom  he  paid  the  exahed  compli- 
ment— "  she  did  what  she  could."  Oh,  for  that 
tribute  in  the  day  when  by  a  light  from  the 
throne  of  God  we  shall  see  the  proudest  of  hu- 
man flatteries  in  their  character  of  reproach  ! 

We  arrive  in  this  period  of  our  discourse,  at 
the  event  which  has  called  for  it.  The  hour 
comes  when  the  gaities  of  life  are  done,  and  the 
pleasures  of  life  are  ended,  with  the  most  favour- 
ed of  this  world's  votaries.  And  the  hour  comes, 
too,  to  the  labourer  in  the  Vineyard,  when  his 
sun  sets,  and  he  returns  from  his  work — and  the 
record  of  both  follows  them  to  the  Audit  above. 
It  is  a  brief  winter's  day  at  least.  But  when  that 
hour  has  come,  the  note  of  many  a  complainer 
has  changed.  It  is  no  more  "  let  me  die  the 
death  of  the  righteous" — this  was  the  cry  of  life's 
vigour — there  is  a  note  that  is  new — "  oh,  that  I 
had  lived  the  life  of  the  righteous !"  Female 
accomplishments,  and  attractions,  and  beauty — 
the  charm,  and  the  snare — wither  under  the 
damp  touch  of  a  dreaded  finger. 

Yes  ;  there  is  a  prophecy  sure  as  it  is  unheed- 
ed, that  sounds  aloud  :  *'  An  end  is  come  ;  it 
watcheth  for  thee,  lo,  it  is  come  !"  and  its  fulfil- 
ment shall  pass  alike  throui:;h  the  pomp  of  cif- 
'Cumstance  and  power,  and  the  retirement  of  po- 


22 


verty.  It  baffles  our  best  calculations :  it  stains 
the  fairest  of  our  eartlily  hopes,  with  the  mark 
of  uncertainty. 

Oh,  I  know  how  we  err  when  we  attempt  lo 
tell  the  nature  of  a  death- hour.  I  know  that 
there  is  folly  in  all  anticipations  here.  Remorse 
may  not  gather  around  the  death-bed  of  the  im- 
pious. The  letharjjy  of  disease  may  stupify  the 
brightest  of  faculties.  Or  self-deception  may 
play  her  part  as  effectually  there,  as  in  the  flush 
of  health.  We  err  when  we  speak  of  the  neces- 
sary exultation  of  the  departing  Christian.  On 
him  too  disease  may  have  its  power.  Or  a  mo- 
ral constitution  that  is  incapable  of  exstacy,  may 
find  no  miracle  to  create  it  then.  Or  a  dark 
providence  may  curtain  the  season,  with  the  sam# 
mystery  that  covered  many  a  day  of  health.  I 
know  it  was  so  with  the  sweetest  of  Britain's 
Christian  bards.  In  the  apathy  or  self-decep- 
tion of  the  abandoned  sinner,  there  may  be  a 
pleasing  delusion  to  his  associates.  And  in  the 
torpor  or  cloudiness  of  the  pious  dying,  there  may 
be  sorrow  in  the  bosom  of  the  endeared  specta- 
tor. But  I  know  that  wliile  his  strength  shall  be 
equal  to  his  day  with  the  child  of  God — and 
Avhile  I  can  confide  in  that  promise,  "  I  will 
neither  leave  thee,  nor  forsake  thee" — I  am 
equally  sure,  that  there  is  no  special  pledge  for 


23 


special  enjoyments  in  any  given  season  on  earth. 
Safety  shall  track  the  way  of  the  heirs  of  Hea- 
ven,— and  yet  it  is  possible  that  the  foot  may 
tremble  as  it  is  raised  to  dip  in  the  waters  of 
Jordan.  Whatever  reason  for  comfort  I  might 
have  in  the  instance  recalled  before  us,  I  would 
alike  bar,  by  this  statement,  the  hopes  of  the 
presumptuous,  who  have  seen  the  careless  calmly 
die,  or  the  fears  of  the  timid  who  have  seen  the 
exemplary  droop  in  that  fearful  moment. 

But  there  is  a  distinction  here  which,  for  the 
most  part,  prevails,  and  which  of  all  others  is 
most  easily  forgotten.  Where  terror  steals  over 
the  heart  of  the  impenitent,  it  is  gathered  from 
beyond  the  fearful  verge.  Where  fear  sinks  the 
spirits  of  the  pious  its  source  is  nearer:  it  is  the 
revolting  of  nature  from  the  crisis  of  dissolution, 
and  it  may  collect  its  cold  to  the  very  chilling 
of  faith.  There  is  something  in  the  thought  of 
a  separation  of  the  soul  from  its  habitation,  which 
we  do  not  understand.  What  and  how,  it  is, — 
are  questions  which  we  do  not  comprehend.-^ 
And  there  are  minds  which  this  mystery  attracts, 
despite  of  themsc  Ives.  And  they  hover  around 
it.  And  they  give  to  it  artificial  terrors.  And 
imagination,  most  ready  here,  lends  her  aid  to 
invest,  they  know  not  what,  with  a  gloom  they 
know  not  why. 


2* 


Touching  then  the  article  of  Death,  we  can 
speak  ordinarily  of  nothing  certain — nothing 
assured.  And  I  am  bold  to  say,  apart  from  the 
index  of  the  life,  we  can  learn  nothing  definitely 
from  it.  It  is  part  of  our  earthly  probation  ;  but  it 
possesses  no  distinctive  moral  character  that 
points  to  the  future.  There  may,  therefore,  be 
as  great  an  error  in  inordinately  desiring  exuha- 
tion  in  death,  rather  than  the  evidences  of  a  well 
grounded  hope,  as  there  is  in  many  a  mistaken 
professor  of  religion  in  seeking  seasons  of  joy 
rather  than  proofs  of  his  sincerity,  or  of  the  gen- 
uineness of  his  graces. 

But  if  the  Word  of  God  do  not  encourage  us 
by  special  promises  to  look  for  certain  clear  views 
in  this  trying  hour,  as  a  guaranteed  prelibation 
of  the  joys  to  come,  it  does  what  is  better  And 
it  is  an  humble  dependence  upon  that,  which 
after  all,  constitutes  the  basis  of  true  peace  at 
this  moment :  Yes ;  it  does  what  is  better :  it 
anchors  the  hopes  beyond  this  world. — There 
arc  three  words  on  a  page  of  this  volume  which 
of  themselves  distinguish  Christianity  from  all 
other  systems  of  religion :  and  in  their  compre- 
hensiveness and  their  energy  they  contain  all 
that  a  trembling  spirit  should  ask :  hear  them — 
and  suffer' their  power  to  pervade  your  thoughts 
in  time — to  prepare  them  for  Eternity — «'  Death 


25 

IS  Yours  !" — Death  that  was  the  curse^  so  terri- 
fic and  so  appalling,  is  transformed  into  a  bles- 
sing ;  and  the  property  of  that  blessing  is  yours. 
No  sting  is  there.  No  victory  to  the  ^rave  :  the 
victor  is  the  child  of  faith. 

Oh,  it  is  su^eet  to  watch  by  the  instructive  bed 
of  a  departing  heir  of  grace ;  and  to  mark  the 
anticipations  of  joy  in  the  almost  unearthly  mind  ; 
and  to  drink  in  counsel  that  seems  freshened  by 
its  nearness  to  Eternity.  These  are  honoured 
hours ;  and  1  can  look  upon  many  of  them  as 
goals  in  my  pilgrimage.  But  whether  this  may 
be  or  not  with  us,  the  Christian  has  a  more  sure 
ground  of  confidence,  that  should  teach  him  to 
confide  in  his  God.  It  is  true  that  the  act  of  dy- 
ing is  painfully  mysterious ;  and  the  more  so,  be- 
cause in  all  things  else  we  have  the  well  told  ex- 
perience of  others  ;  but  though  thousands  depart 
around  us,  none  come  back  to  tell  us  what  it  is 
to  die.  Yet  turn  to  these  pages  again  :  if  there 
be  nothing  direct  on  this  matter  there,  there  is  a 
passage  that  sheds  its  light  into  every  hour. — 
^^  The  steps  of  a  good  man  are  ordered  by  his 
Word ,"  and  if  it  be  so  in  the  movements  of  life 
in  health,  is  there  a  point  of  desertion  ?  Is  he 
left  to  take  this  step  unordered  and  alone  ?  Oh, 
no  !  It  will  be  the  declaration  of  Jesus  him- 
self  <'  I  undertook  for  him, — and  here  he  is; 

4 


I  led  him  through  the  wilderness 1  conducted 

him  through  the  gates  of  the  grave — there  I  de- 
serted him  not 1  kept  him  company  through 

the  dark  valley — and  here  he  is Angels,  wel- 
come a  spirit    redeemed  !" "  As  for  me, 

so  for  him,"  "  lift  up  your  heads,  oh  ye  gates ; 
and  be  ye  lift  up,  ye  everlasting  doors,"  an 
"  heir  of  glory  comes  !" 

Yet  back  to  this  point  again.  Notwithstand- 
ing all  we  have  said,  there  is  a  hankering  in  na- 
ture to  know  something  of  the  embattled  hour. 
We  would  learn  the  last  accents  of  one  beloved. 
And  we  attach  to  them,  it  is  possible,  even  a 
superstitious  value.  We  ask — and  the  question 
is  hardly  repressible "  how  did  he  die  ?" 

Christian  Females, ye  who  shared  in  the 

friendship  of  our  departed  sister,  or  in  the  com- 
panionship of  her  labour  of  love — would  you 
ask  "  how  did  she  die  ?"  The  answer  is  signifi- 
cant and  just — she  died  as  she  lived.  Her  lead- 
ing characteristic  in  life — and  it  never  forsook 
her — was  dignity.  She  died  as  she  lived,  with- 
out a  change  of  character.     It  was  dignity  in 

DEATH. Not   an  acceptation  of  the  term 

^vhich  applies  it  to  ought  of  pride,  or  lofty  bear- 
ing ;  or  to  a  conscious  sense  of  any  worth  in 
herself;  for  she  never  manifested  either.  A  meek 
and  humble  dependence  on  the  Redeemer  had 


27 

characterized  her  conversation  and  life.  But  it 
was  accompanied  by  a  deportment  and  mien 
which  contradicted  all  possible  suspicion  of  a 
littleness,  or  weakness,  of  natural  character. — 
There  was  nothing  artificial — nothing  assumed — 
to  be  thrown  off,  and  to  leave  exposed  to  the 
sight,  deformities  which  artifice  had  concealed. 
Without  a  sinister  end  in  view,  siie  had  no  rea- 
son, and  no  temptation,  ever  to  appear  other  than 
she  was. 

Advancing  in  life,  she  had  combined  the  dig- 
nity of  the  Matron,  with  the  suavity  of  the  pray- 
erful Christian.  Long  accustomed  to  contem- 
plate the  change,  her  mind  was  familiar  with 
it.  For  years  gone  by  she  had  prepared  the 
garments  of  the  tomb — the  envelope  that  now 
covers  her  frame  in  its  dark,  cold  chamber. 

She  seemed  to  have  caught  a  prediction  of 
truth  from  the  first  pulsations  of  fever.  And  al- 
though she  rejected  no  means  which  medical 
skill  provided,  she  avowed  her  persuasion  of  their 
utter  inefficiency.  The  racking  of  a  painful 
disorder  never  encroached  on  her  serenity,  or 
ruffled  her  unvarying  calmness.  Had  death  been 
an  enemy,  he  were  met  with  the  cool  collected- 
ness  of  a  fearless  combatant.  Her  house  was 
already  "  set  in  order."  She  had  little  to  do, 
but  to  await  a  summons  from  which  she  had 


28 

neither  inclination  nor  disposition  to  shrink. — 
•'  My  confidence  is  in  my  Redeemer," — she  said, 
*'  and  that  confidence  is  sure."  One  who  knew 
not  the  worth  of  a  hope  from  Heaven,  and  under- 
stood it  not,  Avould  have  found  in  her  firm  and 
deliberate  manner  and  tone,  the  support  of  a 
philosophical  resolution ;  but  it  was  the  philoso- 
phy of  Heaven's  disciple — it  sustained  the  heart 
as  well  as  the  mind.  I  know  not  that  we  may 
predicate  our  ideas  of  a  dying  hour,  from  the 
moral  or  physical  constitution  ;  but  had  I  done 
so,  my  anticipations  would  have  been  realized  to 
their  very  letter,  in  Elizabeth  Robertson. 

To  the  relatives  of  the  deceased  there  is  all 
that  is  refreshing  in  the  review  of  her  life  and 
her  death.     Ye  are  infinitely  far  from  sorrowing 

as  those  without  hope. Oh,  for  the  operation 

of  that  faith  that  renders  the  departure  of  the 
Christian  a  tranquilizing  lesson  from  Christ ! 
Behold  !  Heaven  has  a  new  attraction  in  this  ad- 
dition to  its  society !  Death  has  snapt  another 
tie — and  ye  are  looser  to  earth.  Ye  are  less 
bound  here.  Ye  are  more  loudly  called  aw  ay. 
Into  what  bosom  then,  could  selfishness  steal,  to 
murmur  and  wish  back  a  spirit  that  has  begun 
its  travel  of  glory,  to  the  disappointments,  the 
cares,  and  tlie  griefs  of  our  blighted  earth  ?  Not 
one.      There  is  not  one  that  would  pluck  away 


29 

the  crown  that  sits  on  the  head  of  the  accepted 
soul,  and  expose  that  head  again  to  the  bleak- 
ness of  our  world. 

Female  members  of  this  Church,  it  is  not  too 
much  to  say  you  have  lost  a  prominent  leader  in 
the  labour  of  love.  The  field  of  your  cultiva- 
tion is  thinned  of  its  labourers.  But  you  saw 
and  understood  the  consistency  of  life  and  death, 
and  the  connexion  of  one  with  the  other.  Look 
not,  I  pray  you,  for  a  holy  confidence  in  the  un- 
tried hour,  disconnected  from  a  review  of  the 
past.  We  must  gather  the  past  into  that  hour. 
"  As  the  tree  falls  so  it  lies."  Whatever  worldlv 
notions  we  may  entertain — to  whatever  exemp- 
tion from  the  work  of  God  we  may  think  our- 
selves entided,  the  truth  must  appear  at  last,  des- 
pite of  all  our  sophistry. 

In  this  melancholy  bereavement,  time,  short  at 
best,  seems  abbreviated  more.  Oh,  believe  me, 
the  value  of  time  is  known  only  to  the  true 
Christian — but  especially  the  opportunities  of 
practical  and  active  benevolence.  Opportunity 
is  the  cream  of  time.  Time  may  endure  for  a 
season ;  but  opportunities  go  by.  Would  God, 
then,  that  in  an  expressive  sense  ye  may  die 
daily.  That  ye  may  eye  Heaven  in  your 
works — speak  its  language,  and  forget  the  lan- 
guage of  Ashdod. 


[The  lamented  Author  of  this  Discourse  dfd  not  intend 
it  for  publication.  His  motive  for  printing  it,  is  stated  at 
the  commencement.  At  some  future  period,  he  had  de- 
signed using  it  as  the  outlines  of  a  more  full  and  extended 
Essay  on  the  duties  of  Females  in  the  Vineyard  of  Christ, 
But  he  did  not  live  to  accomplish  his  object ; — nor  did  he 
live  to  see  this  "  imperfect  article," — as  he  called  it, — through 
the  press.  He  had  corrected  the  first  sheet,  when  he 
was  arrested  by  that  disease  which,  in  ninety  hours,  ter- 
minated his  earthly  labours.  On  his  dying  couch,  and  but 
little  before  he  expired,  he  breathed  out  an  ardent  prayer 
that  it  might  prove  a  blessing  to  those  into  whose  hands  it 
should  fall.  He  enjoyed,  to  the  last,  sweet  peace  in  the 
prospect  of  death,  and,  in  the  name  of  his  Saviour,  he 
triumphed  gloriously  over  the  King  of  Terrors,  He  fell 
asleep  in  Jesus,  on  the  5th  of  October,  1827,  at  4  o'clock, 
A.  M.  Aged  37  years  and  13  days. — Ed.  Charleston  Oh- 
scTver.'\ 


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W       J. 


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